


Late-night Entertainment

by Elysandra



Series: Hugs in Cups [10]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/F, The hilarity of porn, The thing about kinks, The unexpected seriousness of feet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysandra/pseuds/Elysandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate discovers a new way of enjoying herself, late at night, at a hotel, waiting for Helen - and Helen really knows how to suck the fun out of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late-night Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [khudgens91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/khudgens91/gifts), [adeclanfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adeclanfan/gifts).



> This is for Kat, because she's probably in serious need of a pick-me-up right about now, and for Alli, because her feet had a horrible time recently ;) I bet you haven't had fic written for your feet before, huh? ;-P

It is even later than Helen predicted when she finally comes back from her meeting, but Kate doesn’t mind. In the right mood, watching late night TV at a hotel turns out to be quite entertaining.

 

While the whole thing starts out as innocent ‘bored out of my mind’-channel surfing, it quickly turns into more determined searching when the situation reminds Kate of the last time Helen found her ‘watching TV’ in their hotel room. Instead of at least half-way decent porn, though - she has yet to find porn she can really get into, except for that one movie - she ends up watching some kind of stereotypic S/M scene that has her laugh out loud as she imagines acting out something like that with Helen.

Even some ten minutes after the movie ended, the hilarity is still triggering Kate’s muscles from time to time. It takes mere seconds for the giggles to break out when the first thing Helen does, tired of running around in high heels the whole day, is to sit down in a chair and take off her black stilettos. The bemused look on her face doesn’t help, either, though Kate valiantly tries to swallow her laughter as she gets up from the bed and crosses the room, intending to distract herself by kneading Helen’s shoulders, erasing the tension left by long, tedious meetings. Giggles bubble up anew, though, when Helen lifts her leg to push the sheer stockings down and off.

“What’s so funny?” Helen asks, understandably confused. Watching her undress doesn’t usually end with her lover in fits of giggles, quite the contrary.

“Nothing,” Kate says, but finishes the word with another badly suppressed giggle. She’s trying, she really is. It’s just not working.

“Did you want to do it?”

And with that, any semblance of self-control is gone again. As she gives in to the giggles, she can see comprehension dawn in Helen’s eyes.

“What exactly did you do while you waited for me, Kate?”

There’s an edge to her voice that has Kate sober up slightly, though she can’t quite keep her lips from twitching. As she steps around the chair to stand in front of Helen, she can’t help but wonder whether there isn’t a movie with wonderfully hilarious school teacher scenes as well. She might have to check that channel again tomorrow. With a bit of luck...

“I watched TV,” she says. “Meeting the Mistress - from playboy to boy toy.”

The giggles return when Kate sees Helen’s eyebrows wander upwards.

“Quality porn,” she says, then rolls her eyes. “You can’t imagine how HOT that movie was!”

“I think I’ve got a fair idea what kind of movie you stumbled upon,” Helen remarks dryly. “And I think you need to calm down. Help me with these.”

She stretches out her foot, leaning back expectantly. Kate blinks and takes hold of her foot almost on instinct, the urge to laugh or giggle quickly evaporating. She reaches for the hem of lace where it currently covers Helen’s knee, but Helen stops her.

“Shouldn’t you be on your knees?”

And just like that, Kate feels herself sink into her role as she nods slowly and gets down on her knees.

“Better. Once you’ve helped me undress I’d like a massage. Those chairs in the conference room, they’re nice to look at but a horror to sit on for any length of time.”

 

~~~

 

“You know,” Kate says when they lie in bed later that night, cuddled close after a relaxing massage and an even more relaxing hour in the bath tub, “you get me to do things I never thought I could do without laughing my head off. You just need to look at me and, I don’t know, somehow it’s not at all funny anymore.”

Helen grins.

“I know. It’s a special talent of mine, to suck the fun out of things.”

Kate roles her eyes and pokes her tongue out at Helen. She’s quick to pull it back into the relative safety of her mouth when Helen eyes it closely.

“Oh, ha ha. Seriously, though.”

“Seriously? Seriously, I guess it all depends on the atmosphere, the tone, and the person you’re with. If I told you to ‘Worship my feet, worm!’-”

Kate giggles, at the ‘worm’, but even more so at the haughty look on Helen’s face.

“Right? It’s ridiculous!”

Helen smiles.

“It feels ridiculous because it doesn’t fit the game the two of us play, and the game it would fit doesn’t fit us.”

Her smile vanishes.

“But if I stay completely serious and tell you ‘Now, Kate’-”

Kate looks up at her decisive tone, almost choking on the tail-end of her giggling. Helen is looking right at her, completely serious, completely unwavering. Kate swallows.

“Yeah, that’s- that’s not funny.”

“No.”

The silence grows, and Kate fights the increasing urge to shift restlessly as Helen’s gaze doesn’t waver, her eyes never leaving Kate’s, waiting, demanding.

“Seriously?” she asks when she can’t bear the silence, the unwavering Look any longer. “I mean- seriously?”

Helen bends one knee, places her foot flat on the mattress.

Kate swallows, then swallows again. It doesn’t seem to help with the knot growing in her throat. A tingling sensation washes over her body, runs up and down her arms, over her head, everywhere. She looks at Helen, then down at where her foot dents the covers. She shifts until she’s kneeling next to it, and there’s a light tremor to her hand as she reaches out and runs a finger down the elegantly bowed instep. The shadows of veins are visible under the light skin, and Kate feels the pattern of sinews and bones underneath it, traces their lines were they elevate the skin.

A quick glance over her shoulder confirms that Helen is watching her from under hooded eyes, waiting, unrelenting. Kate feels a faint blush heat her cheeks, and a gush of wetness between her legs. The whole situation now is so very far from funny she can barely remember what laughing feels like. There can be no laughter with the way her stomach clenches, and blood rushes to her head. And most certainly there can be no laughter about how hard it seems to be to close her hand around Helen’s slender foot, gently, almost afraid to touch, and lift it to her lips and still, still keep breathing, breathing all through it, against her racing pulse, her wildly beating heart, against her tightly clenched stomach.

Goosebumps spread across Helen’s shin when Kate’s breath ghosts across her toes. They’re gone again in the blink of an eye, but knowing they have been there, knowing Helen is as affected by this as she is, gives Kate the necessary push to meet Helen’s eyes as she brushes her lips over the teal coloured nails. She often lies on the bed late at night or early in the morning and watches Helen paint them, watches the brush flatten itself to the smooth surface of the nails, leaving behind a shiny coating of whatever colour fits her lover’s mood. She can name every colour Helen owns, can even group them by how often Helen uses them. Why has it never crossed her mind to offer painting them herself?

She runs the tip of her tongue along the edge of the nails, smooth polish contrasting with hard edge and soft skin. Helen’s head is resting against the headboard, and she’s brought up a hand to caress her breast, to tease her nipple into a hard, puckered nub while her other hand is running up and down her thigh. Her movements are slow, lazy, her concentration on Kate, but her eyes are dark, her breathing deep and controlled. She isn’t speaking, but there’s no doubt her voice would be heavy with arousal if she were, and how wonderful would it be if Helen were to moan, a throaty, low moan.

Watching a finger circle the hardened nipple, Kate takes the big toe between her lips and mimics the movement with her tongue. There’s no moan yet, but Helen’s eye lids dip lower, and her tongue comes out to lick her lips in that sexy, completely unconscious way. It leaves her lips red and glistening and so very kissable, but Kate has a different goal in mind now. She pulls back to lick her own lips in a not at all unconscious way before dipping her head for a big, wide lolly-lick all the way from Helen’s toes up to her ankle, her thumbs kneading the arch of Helen’s foot. She nibbles at the skin on the inner arch on her way back down, then dips her tongue between the toes, big toe to little toe and back again, teasing, massaging, leaving them all wet and glistening as well.

And there, there’s the moan. It’s throaty and heavy and low, just as Kate has imagined it, and it sends a jolt of arousal right between her legs and makes her throat constrict in a silent moan of her own. She looks up, needing to see Helen watch her, and finds those eyes glued to her, Helen’s lips parted, wet, her touches no longer lazy, no longer gentle. Her hand is kneading her breast, pinching her nipple, switching sides back and forth, while her other hand has left her thighs and is busy between her legs, another kind of wetness glistening at the apex of her legs, the back of her hand, her wrist.

Their eyes meet, and Helen’s movements pick up speed as she watches Kate continue her ministrations. Matching Helen’s own rough edge, Kate adds teeth to her caresses of lips and tongues, and grips Helen’s foot more firmly in one hand to free the other one, running it up and down her calve and shin. Helen bends her free leg, opening herself up to Kate’s eyes as well as her own touch, and Kate switches from fingertips to nails, rakes them up Helen’s leg as far as she can reach. She can actually see the shivers running through her lover’s body at this, and, sensing her being close, rakes her nails down the back of her knee and bites high on her instep, just enough pain to make Helen overflow with sensations, her long-drawn cry running in shivers down Kate’s back.

“Yes,” she whispers heatedly, “fuck, that’s hot.”

She lets Helen’s twitching leg go, moves swiftly to feel her hips buck under her own and to swallow her moans as Kate kisses her hungrily. Strong arms come up and reach around her to pull her down on top of Helen even as she breaks the kiss and rests her forehead against Kate’s, gasping for breath. Then Helen opens her legs and Kate’s skin meets heated wetness as she straddles Helen’s thigh. The rhythm of Helen’s hips grows steadier, more controlled, more intent. Kate groans a needy little groan at that, at the heat, at the way their bodies fit together. Her lips brush Helen’s ear and the groan has Helen chuckle and buck her hips.

“Just like that, Kate,” Helen drawls, far too much in control again. There are nails drawing fiery lines down Kate’s back that have her arch against Helen, and nails digging into her ass, right above where cheek meets thigh, pressing her against Helen’s hips, making her thrusts meet Kate’s clit in just the right way. She’s good, she’s so damn good.

“Ride my thigh, Kate,” Helen breaths into her ear as Kate clings to her, and Kate buries her face against her neck and clings to her even tighter, losing complete control of her hips as they buck against Helen, harder, faster, yearning for that final thrust of too much and-

“Ride my thigh,” Helen repeats, lips and hot breath caressing her ear, “and next time I’ll teach you how to ride my foot.”

And with that she bites down and thrusts up and Kate cries out her name as she clings to her. She shudders and writhes and her legs clench Helen’s thigh in a death grip, still sliding back and forth, wet skin against wet skin, bucking with tiny helpless twitches to prolong her orgasm until even the last tendrils of pleasure have faded. Spent, she finally slumps down next to Helen, trying to catch her breath.

“So,” Helen says, and Kate turns her head to see Helen shifting around until they lie face to face, “do you have anything else you’d like me to suck the fun out of?”


End file.
